Page 10 of Emergency with the Mountain Man
She laughs, the sound bright and happy and full of promise. "I think we can upgrade to moderately paced."
"I can work withmoderately paced."
"Good. Because I want to go home with you tonight, Jake. I want to stop being afraid of what I feel, stop letting Sebastian's damage control my choices. I want to be brave enough to trust you with everything."
The trust she's offering, the courage it takes for her to say those words, humbles me completely. "Are you sure?"
"More sure than I've been about anything in years."
"Then let's go home."
five
Norma
Jake'scabinsitsonfive acres of forested land at the end of a gravel road, tucked into the trees like it grew there naturally. It's exactly what I'd expected—solid log construction, wide front porch, stone chimney releasing a curl of smoke into the evening sky.
What I didn't expect is how right it feels to be here with him.
"It's beautiful," I say as he helps me down from his truck. "How long have you lived here?"
"Built it myself when I moved to Silver Ridge. Took me two years of weekends, but I wanted something that felt like home."
Home. The word carries weight coming from Jake, who understands what it means to start over, to build something new from the foundation up.
The interior is warm and masculine without being cluttered. Handcrafted furniture, bookshelves lined with forestry journals and classic novels, a stone fireplace that dominates the livingroom. Everything speaks of a man who values quality over quantity, craftsmanship over convenience.
"Drink?" he asks, suddenly seeming as nervous as I feel. "I've got wine, beer, coffee..."
"Wine sounds good."
He disappears into the kitchen, giving me a chance to explore his space. Family photos on the mantel show a younger Jake with a man who must be his father—same dark hair, same warm smile. Books about sustainable forestry practices fill one shelf, while another holds an eclectic mix of fiction and outdoor adventure stories.
"My dad and me at my college graduation," Jake says, appearing beside me with two glasses of red wine. "Last photo we took together before he died."
"You look happy."
"I was. Had just gotten my forestry degree, I thought I was going to change the world. Took me a few years to realize the world doesn't always want to be changed."
"But you found a way to make a difference anyway."
"Small differences. Local differences. Sometimes that's enough."
We settle on his couch, the fire crackling in the hearth and wine warming my empty stomach. The emergency feels like it happened days ago instead of hours ago, but I can still feel the adrenaline aftermath in my shaky hands.
"How are you doing?" Jake asks, studying my face with concern. "Today was intense."
"I'm okay. Better than okay, actually." I take a sip of wine, organizing my thoughts. "For the past year, Sebastian had me convinced I was a mediocre veterinarian who only succeeded because of his connections and guidance. Today reminded me who I really am."
"Which is?"
"Someone who can handle a crisis. Someone who makes good decisions under pressure. Someone who actually knows what she's doing."
Jake's smile is proud and warm. "That's exactly who you are. I'm glad you're starting to see it again."
"It's because of you." The admission feels vulnerable, important. "The way you look at me, talk to me, trust me with things that matter. You make me feel capable again."
"You were always capable, Norma. I just see what was already there."
